


liquid smooth

by kimaracretak



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22221991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: Angela likes to be watched.
Relationships: Ana Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48
Collections: The Annual Femslash Kink Meme 2019





	liquid smooth

**Author's Note:**

> [Ana/Mercy, mutual masturbation](https://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/27607.html?thread=4037335#cmt4037335)

Two thirty in the morning was not the ideal circumstance for most things, but Angela had found it to be the best time to be in the Gibralter base locker rooms. Everyone who wanted to work out after their day shift was long gone, and those on night rotations were well into their work elsewhere. Her only companions were her own thoughts, other occasional insomniacs - and, on the best days, Ana.

She liked showing off for her captain. It wasn't precisely something new she'd learnt about herself since joining Overwatch - she'd always been first one in the classroom with her hand in the air, first one to volunteer when a teacher asked for something and first one to blush when her supervisor told her she'd done well.

Ana, though - Ana had magnified those initial desires in ways Angela had never been able to dream of. She'd picked up a gun for Ana Amari, and she was both curious and afraid to know what else she would do to see pride and approval shining in those warm brown eyes.

But Ana wasn't in the gym tonight. No one was, and Angela went through the motions of her weight circuit and treadmill run with only the dull thud of the bass in her headset for company. Not until she dragged herself to the showers, thoroughly sweaty and full of a vague, buzzing irritation that the workout hadn't managed to get rid of did she see the first sign of another person: a blue Overwatch command jacket, slung over one of the benches by the lockers.

Out loud, Angela would never admit that she knew it immediately for Ana's jacket. In the questionable privacy of the locker room, she bit her lip and glanced around hoping that meant Ana was here, and not that she'd just forgotten the jacket earlier in the day.

But Ana herself didn't seem to be around. Angela sighed and kicked off her shoes, stripped out of her tanktop and leggings and underwear, and turned the water as hot as she could possibly bear it. The contrast of the cool tiles against her back and the scalding spray on her skin was soothing, and Angela let her eyes fall shut as she wondered what to do with the rest of her night.

Under the water, she almost didn't hear the soft sound of footsteps entering the shower area. She opened her eyes just enough to see the long black fall of Ana's hair as the other woman opened a locker and pulled off her t-shirt.

She didn't look at Angela, even though the shower was so loud she couldn't possibly not know she was there. And while under most circumstances Angela was all for the norms of locker room politeness, she _wanted_ Ana to look at her.

But saying something was out of the question. Angela reached out and picked up a shampoo bottle, letting it knock one of the others onto the floor as she did.

As she hoped, Ana looked over at the sound. But she just smiled slightly at Angela, ducked her head in acknowledgment and and turned away again.

Angela frowned. They were alone, she knew how Ana looked at her, and it was nearly three thirty in the morning in the showers. There was never going to be a better time for Ana to watch.

Well. She would simply have to give her a reason not to look away again. Angela uncapped the shampoo with more force than strictly necessary, firmly pushing away all second thoughts. If Ana truly didn't want her after this, well, she would -

\- but Ana would.

Angela worked the shampoo into her hair with tired fingers, squinting against the lather as she tried to observe Ana through the curtain of water.

Ana wasn't looking, not really. But her shoes were off, and with her shirt gone the deep blue of her sports bra was a beautiful contrast to her dark skin, and she didn't seem in any hurry to cover herself any further. Angela counted one victory for herself.

She wrung her hair under the water, let the suds slide their way over the curve of her breasts and down the rest of her body. Part of her felt undeniably silly, but it was rapidly being drowned out by the part of her brain that was desperately aware that Ana was watching her. That Ana knew she was putting herself on display for her, no matter how clumsy those attempts might come across, and the idea of being known, even in a way that she was inviting, had her breath coming in short, sharp gasps that the noise of the shower couldn't mask forever.

Angela lifted her damp hair into a loose ponytail, angling her body to the side so Ana could better see how the movement lifted her breasts. In that position she couldn't see Ana's face, but the soft sigh from the corner gave her the encouragement to continue that she hadn't known she was looking for.

Ana was staying. Even if that was all that happened, it was enough to keep her fantasies alive for months, it always was. Even if it meant it grew harder and harder to avoid thinking too hard about facing Ana in briefing rooms, labs, all the places where they couldn't do this.

Angela dropped her arms and let her hair fall down her back. She slid a hand across her breasts, flicking idly at her nipples as she did. Arranged as she was, unable to see Ana fully, she could only imagine how wide Ana's eyes must be, the paths her fingers might be tracing over her own chest.

Or perhaps she wouldn't be touching herself. Maybe she was content to watch, to imagine it was her hands on Angela's body.

Angela sank back against the wall as the last of the shampoo swirled around the drain. The tile was slick, warming with the water and with the heat of Angela's body, and she braced herself against the wall as she parted her legs for Ana.

She could meet Ana's eyes, from this angle. Watch Ana watching her, and she wondered, as she slipped her hand between her legs, what she looked like to Ana: if she was half as desperate, half as red as she felt.

Wished that Ana would tell her.

She wouldn't; they never spoke during this just like they never spoke about it. Even wanting it felt like more than was allowed, and Angela slid a finger inside herself to end that train of thought. It was too fast, she was wet more from the shower water than from her own arousal, and Angela cried out at the sensation, loud enough that Ana couldn't deny what was happening even if she wanted to.

Angela watched the uneven rise and fall of Ana's chest as she drew her finger out, circling briefly around her clit before sticking her finger in her mouth. She tasted more bitter on her own skin than she did on Ana's hands, and she swallowed hard, growing wetter just at the thought of her wetness glistening on her captain's hands - of Ana stripping, joining her in the shower, finding out the difference between the water droplets rolling down between her breasts and Angela's slickness coating her fingers -

Ana stood just long enough to shuck her leggings, sitting back down and spreading her legs wide enough for Angela to see the dark spot spreading across the front of her underwear, and it was better than her mental images, just like always. Angela groaned at the sight, the sound slipping past her bitten lips, and Ana laughed, low and almost hidden under the sound of the water.

"You started this," she said, and Angela couldn't deny it but couldn't bring herself to agree out loud, either, cross the same invisible line that Ana had just stepped over with unfair grace.

 _And so what?_ She might have asked if she could speak, _What are you going to do about it?_

Ana knew, though, Ana always knew what she was going to say, sometimes before Angela even knew herself. Or: she must have known, because her right hand dipped beneath the band of her underwear, and the tiny movements of her wrist as she stroked over her cunt would have had Angela falling to her knees if not for her death grip on the shower handle behind her.

Ana didn't join in. She watched, always, took in the show Angela gave her with hungry eyes, and though Angela always liked to imagine how she would fuck herself afterwards - fingers? toys? holding herself open? or, selfishly, sucking on her fingers to stop herself whispering Angela's name when she came? - she didn't _know_.

Until now.

And this truth, too, was better than fantasies, was good enough that Angela could slide three fingers inside her cunt now and still feel like she had room for more, if only they would be Ana's fingers. She moved them slowly, painfully aware that with only her presence and a few small motions Ana already had her on the edge of coming, but also desperate not to come just yet, until Ana had or had at least given her some sign that it was allowed.

Ana's head dropped back as she continued to move over her clit, and Angela took advantage of the brief respite from her gaze to still her own hand, rest a finger on either side of her lips and feel every familiar ridge and bump and curl of hair on the overheated skin throb with need. She liked her body well enough, most days, appreciated and sometimes hated and always respected what it was capable of, but when Ana looked at her - watched her - she felt utterly transformed.

Ana bent her knee, resting her foot on the bench and letting Angela see how wet she had grown, the teasing hint of her neatly-trimmed pubic hair at the edges of the fabric. Angela licked her lips, tasting the lingering floral remnants of the shampoo, imagining she was running her tongue over Ana's damp, parted lips instead, or maybe even her nipples, tight and hard under the fabric of her bra.

It was torture of the best kind, to be so close and so unable to touch; and yet it was perfect, too, to be so on display and so utterly approved of - to know she had driven Ana to touch herself.

Ana's knuckles flexed under the fabric, and her body shuddered as she slipped a finger - two fingers - inside herself, and Angela gasped, cunt clenching helplessly around her fingers. She was close, desperately so, burning against her hand as the water cooled around her, and she wanted -

She slowed her fingers, trying to match Ana's pace, her breath. She wanted instruction, wanted to see another sign from Ana, and even as she struggled to stay upright against the wall, memorise every tiny motion of her hands, her thighs, her chest, _oh_ , she thought, _this is why Ana likes to watch_ -

Her nipples were almost painfully untouched, the water against the sensitive skin of her neck a pale substitute for touch. Ana groaned, the weight of her gaze heavy on Angela's skin as her hips rocked forward to meet each thrust of her own hand again, again, chasing the vision of Ana's touch; chasing Ana's pleasure, the flickers of it in her warm eyes and bitten lips.

She was familiar with Ana's body, in the context of medical exams and sparring drills, but she had never known this: Ana, wanting her, Ana, so close to coming. Even like this, though, Ana was composed, more so than she had any right to be, and Angela couldn't tell - didn't know, couldn't feel her, didn't know how long she had to wait.

But it didn't matter. Despite her efforts she was lost as soon as Ana smiled at her, pleasure and heat coursing through her body as she tried to support herself on unsteady legs, fucking herself through her orgasm with shaking fingers, blood welling up under her teeth as she tried not to scream. When she looked back to Ana, finally certain she wouldn't ruin the moment by falling over, Ana's eyes were shut - fingers still moving under her underwear, body tense, and still an edge of vulnerability to her that Angela almost felt she shouldn't be allowed to see as she came, nothing but a soft groan and the tightness of her abdomen to indicate it, but enough to have Angela feeling on the edge of coming once more from nothing but the look on her face.

She brushed her thumb over her clit and that was all it took: no less intense for the lack of Ana watching her, just the knowledge that Ana was here with her - that Ana had seen her, and let herself be seen in return. "Ana." She spoke without meaning to, hardly audible over the still-running shower, but the slight curve of a smile graced Ana's lips told her that she'd been heard anyway.

She wanted to say something else. She wanted to ask - _what happens next? Why did you - Will you touch me?_

But too much had changed already. Angela sagged back against the wall, letting her eyes drift shut. She didn't want to see Ana getting dressed, leaving her: just let the sounds of the locker door and Ana's footsteps wash over her like water. What had they done?

She didn't know how long she stayed there, replaying the memory of Ana fucking herself - of Ana coming in front of her - over and over, the sheen of sweat on her abdomen, the way her cunt must have been flushed with blood and open, enough, maybe, that Angela could have slipped a finger in alongside Ana's if things had been different, if she'd been brave -

The water was properly cool now, a balm to her still-overheated skin. The memory of Ana watching her lingered as she found the shower gel and ran a perfunctory soapy washcloth over her body, letting the suds and her sweat swirl down the drain. Tried to forget that every bit of her tired body was still aching for something more.


End file.
